The White Wolf's Son

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Authors: Michael Moorcock
Tags: Fantasy
canting tongue,” a language which derived from Gypsy and was used, in one form
     or another, by thieves and vagabonds in England and other parts of Europe.
    When I went back to bed, however, I knew they had been talking about me. I had heard my name mentioned. I had a feeling Lord
     Renyard’s men and women were objecting to my presence, partially because they thoughthe had kidnapped me. I smiled at this until I realized it was quite possible. How could I have been subtly induced to move
     further and further from my home, where even now our local friends and acquaintances thought I must still be—unless I had
     been kidnapped? Could the fox be holding me for ransom and merely pretending to help me?
    No, I thought as I returned to the warmth and security of my feather bed. If he had entertained such a plan, Lord Renyard
     would have betrayed himself. If he had been lying to me, I would have caught something of his intention in his face. Yet it
     was still possible he could be persuaded to hold me captive or, worse, hand me over to the man who sought me and against whom
     I had already been warned. I was beginning to realize that I could not trust everything I heard or everyone who told me something.
     If I was to get back home, I would have to rely increasingly on my own instincts and judgment.
    I slept, with brief intervals of wakefulness, until early the next morning, when the light through my little window showed
     that it was dawn. I looked out onto crooked, cobbled streets, swaying tenements, a bustle of people and animals. Seen in this
     light, the buildings seemed hardly less organic than the people and beasts. The smell of coffee mingled with the smell of
     smoke from the city’s myriad chimneys. The sky behind those tall buildings grew first rust red and then yellow and then blue,
     until the sun was up in all its glory, shining off windows, milk cans, pitchers of pewter, buckets of zinc, and the steel
     of swords and daggers stuck in the belts of the men swaggering towards the eating houses and grog shops. If I had been on
     holiday, I would have been fascinated by all this variety and difference, but now I longed to see somethingfamiliar, to reassure me that I could soon be on my way home.
    Lord Renyard’s pretty maid knocked on my door to tell me the table was laid for breakfast. I washed, dressed in my new clothes,
     and stumbled out to sit down before an array of ham, cheese, dark bread, butter and jam. Not sure of their customs, I helped
     myself to bread and butter and made myself a ham and cheese sandwich. I was eating this when the maid brought in coffee and
     hot milk. A moment later Lord Renyard appeared. He looked a little dusty, as if he had been busy during the night. He explained
     that he’d had to issue orders to his men who were not all natural early birds. “But I have a habit of rising at dawn, though
     I’ll often sleep during the day. I put it down to my ancestry. And you, my dear, did you sleep soundly?”
    “Yes, thank you, Lord Renyard. But I did get a bit homesick during the night.”
    “Of course you did. Of course you did.” He patted my hand with a soft forepaw. “I expect news of your friends at any moment.
     My men have been everywhere in the Upper, Lower and Middle City. They have reports of the man Klosterheim, who pursues you,
     but nothing save rumors about any who pursue
him.
Strangers have all been sparing with their names, it appears.” Lord Renyard shared a cup of warm milk with me, wiping his
     muzzle with his napkin. “For the moment it would be wise for you to remain here until I get some substantial intelligence.”
    I was bound to agree. “Maybe I could borrow a book or something?” I begged. “Since you don’t have TV. I mean, I’d like to
     take my mind off things or I start worrying about my mum and dad.”
    Lord Renyard was sympathetic. He brightened, glad of something he could do for me. “I will introduce you to my library, though
     I fear it is

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